Penny And Her Song

Let me start out by telling you that I love Kevin Henkes.  Truthfully, while I don't know anyone who is a Kevin Henkes hater, I'm a little over the moon about him.  I have met him several times at conferences, have signed books, and even asked him to come to my library when I worked on Nantucket (he really was interested, but couldn't).  I have loved all of his books (even Kitten's First Full Moon grew on me after a few readings).  And when I found out that he had written a reader, called Penny and Her Song, and that he had featured a new mouse character, I begged my HarperCollins connection for one.  And I mean BEGGED.  When I received it in the mail, I was thrilled.  I'd already heard some pre-pub buzz, and it was all positive.
But instead of sitting right down and reading it right there, I let it sit.  I didn't even open the cover.  I couldn't figure out why for a long time, and told myself that I was letting the anticipation build.  That I had received my ARC so far ahead of time that I didn't want to read it and write about it immediately, since it wouldn't be published yet.  But the real truth was, I was afraid.  I was afraid Penny wouldn't live up to his other fabulous mouse characters, who have helped guide children through all of their growing up.  I was afraid Henkes, who has capably handled multiple other formats, wouldn't be a strong beginning reader author.  I didn't want there to be a conditional book for me "Well, I love Kevin Henkes, except for that one..."

These were all silly worries.  Kevin Henkes is an award-winning author for a reason, and his first beginning reader is definitely not a mis-step.  But now that I've reassured you, I'll go back and tell you a little about the text.
Penny comes skipping home from school with a song to sing.  She wants to share it with her parents, but they both tell her the song will have to wait - that the babies are asleep.  Penny is dejected, and goes off to sing in her room.  Singing to herself in her room doesn't work either - this special song needs an audience.  Penny moves on to other activities, and her song is temporarily forgotten.  When the family is together at dinnertime, Penny tries to share this song again.  Her parents remind her that the dinner table is also not an appropriate place for this song. 
Just when the reader is beginning to feel that Penny will never get to sing her song, dinner is finished.  Penny begins her production, singing proudly to her beaming audience.  Her song is so infectious that the whole family is singing along.  They dance, they sing, even the babies "sang along in their own baby way" (p. 23).  It's a true family hootenanny, including funny costumes and more songs.  This impromptu performance has the added benefit of wearing everyone out and getting them ready for bed.  The book ends peacefully, with a reassurance that Penny will not forget her special song.
A few words now about the format - this reader is unleveled, but should be fairly easy for a strong first grade reader to read with a little help.  Most words are easy to decipher, and there are only a couple that young readers might struggle with - "beautifully" and  "flopped" and a couple of  others.  The story is broken up into two chapters, with dinner being the dividing event.  Most pages have four or five lines of text on them, with plenty of white space to rest readers' eyes.  The text is repetitive, but there is a natural energy to the story.  It keeps moving ahead and readers want to continue to find out more about Penny's song.  Henkes has also included plenty of illustrations in a variety of sizes.  These help both with context for unfamiliar words, and also to give more information about the characters than the brief text allows.
There are several things going on in this text.  Penny's story reminds me a little of the Frances books (Hoban) with the story including Penny's song.  Her song is a perfect creation - it includes rhymes and its simple counting theme also suits young children, who will want to continue singing it (so a word to the wise, when you sing it as you read, pick a familiar tune).  The coziness and structure of Penny's family also reminds me of the Frances stories.  While there are clear expectations set out for Penny (she may not sing during dinner or while the babies are napping), she is clearly cherished.  Her creativity is appreciated, and when it is finally the right time, her song is the star of the show.  The needs of the entire family come first, but Penny's individuality is also recognized. 
While this is a new format and new character for Henkes, there are definitely some familiar characteristics.  Penny is shown strutting around, just like Lilly does.  While Penny's parents are reminiscent of Frances, they also have the coziness and loving reassurance that Chrysanthemum's parents exhibit.  Musical notes break the planes of the illustrations, a technique Henkes uses in several other stories.  The pastel colors are Henkes hallmarks as well.
Penny and Her Song is a terrific addition to both any beginning reader collection and to a collection of Henkes' works.  The story is simple and sweet, with a conflict that many children can relate to.  I shouldn't have worried - Henkes has produced another great story.  I can't wait to read more stories about Penny and her family.

Penny and Her Song.  Kevin Henkes.  Greenwillow Press, 2012.

ARC sent by publisher for review

Alice In-Between

So it's Mother's Day, for at least another hour here.  I'm finally posting a blog for the first time in more than a month.  Sorry for the long silence, but there have been some changes here, as well as some computer troubles that kept me from posting.  But I'm back!
And I am writing today about Alice, who actually lost her mother when she was very young. If you haven't read my other posts on this series, you can start here.  Alice begins this book at the end of her seventh grade year.  She has "the in-between blues" (p.86) as she tells her brother Lester.  Alice feels like she isn't young anymore, but she also isn't ready to become a grownup.  After all, she is only just turning thirteen.  And as those of us who have been thirteen year old girls can attest, quite often you don't know exactly what's going on.  You yearn for change, but when it comes, you aren't really ready for it and then want to go back to childhood.

This is exactly what happens to Alice.  She gets two glimpses of the adult world that giver her pause in this book.  The first comes after Alice's birthday.  For her birthday, she gets Lester to agree to take her out for a fancy (expensive) night on the town.  While Alice and Lester are out dancing, they run into Lester's sometime girlfriend, Crystal.  She has met a man at a club, and he has become aggressive with alcohol and won't leave her alone.  This man believes that Lester and Alice are husband and wife, and he willingly dances with Alice while Lester smuggles Crystal out of the club.  Alice marvels "I had only been a teenager for one week, and already I was being asked to help out in the romance department.  More than that, I might even be saving Crystal's life." (p. 24).  They make it out successfully, and the whole incident has a light-hearted tone.  None of them ever really feel in danger, and they all laugh about it.  After dropping Crystal off, though, Alice does ask Lester what she should do if it happens to her, and he tells her to call home immediately so he or their father can come get her.  But Alice is flattered by being seen as older by this man, and excited by the adventure of rescuing Crystal.
The next incident is even more threatening and scary.  Alice is invited to Chicago to visit her Aunt Sally's family with her two best friends, Pamela and Elizabeth.  As a side note, this friendship is another place where Alice feels in-between.  While Pamela loves to look more grown-up and to experiment with being adult, Elizabeth is prudish and young.  She doesn't want to talk about anything having to do with boys, marriage or sex.  Alice isn't quite ready to move full steam ahead like Pamela, is, but she isn't as slow to grow up as Elizabeth.
So off the girls go, via Amtrak from Washington DC to Chicago.  They are going to spend the night on the train, and Pamela ends up with her own tiny room.  A man sees her on the train, and asks her to eat dinner with him.  Pamela, not thinking of the consequences, agrees.  She tells him that she is getting ready to start college.  After dinner (with multiple drinks for the man), they go back to her room, but luckily Pamela is able to escape before anything really terrible happens to her (he does kiss and grope her).  The girls are lucky to have the conductor watching out for them, and he threatens the man to get him to leave the girls alone.  All three girls are very shaken by this incident, and during their time in Chicago, Alice notices that Pamela is reverting: "I swear she looked more like her sixth-grade picture than she did back in sixth grade." (p.115).  Not even Pamela is truly ready to become an adult.
As in most of the Alice books, Alice spends a lot of time thinking and wondering about her mother.  She misses her mother, and wonders how she would be different if her mother was alive.  And she sometimes feels a little lost with her father and brother: "One of the problems of growing up without a mother is that there's no one around who has any idea what it's like to be a girl." (p.2).  As Alice continues to negotiate her way through puberty, I can see this only becoming more important to her.
While looking for a poem to recite in a poetry unit at school, she finds a poem in a book belonging to her mother.  It's "Thanatopsis" by William Cullen Bryant, and a note in its margin tells Alice that it was one of her favorites.  Alice begins to work on memorizing the poem, and in turn, this connects her to her father's grief.  He helps Alice practice, and tells her how this poem helped sustain both Alice's mother and him while she was dying.  On the day Alice recites the poem in class, she begins crying as she speaks, thinking of her mother's life and love.  Later than night, she tells her brother and father about what happened.  Lester tells about a letter their mother had written him before she died, and how he thought he had lost it at school afterwards.  He tells how hard he had cried.  "Dad reached over and put a hand on Lester's shoulder, then stretched out his other hand to me...for a moment we just sat there, all holding hands.  Then Dad gave us a quick squeeze, and we went back to eating supper." (p. 85).  It's a poignant moment of enduring grief, but also enduring family strength.
Alice is negotiating the difficulties of being a teenager fairly well.  At the end of this book, Alice seems to be back together with Patrick, her on-again, off-again boyfriend.  And she is coming into her own.  There will always be bumps in the road, but Alice's Aunt Sally sums it up best when she says "'Marie's little girl, almost grown.'...'She would have been so pleased.'" (p. 120)

Alice In-Between.  Phyllis Reynolds Naylor.  Atheneum, 1994.
Borrowed from Lewis & Clark library

De Colores

The Mexican folk song "De Colores" is popular and has existed since the 16th century, according to David Diaz's picture book.  It has always been a favorite song of mine.  As a middle and high schooler, my parents participated in a series of Catholic retreats called Cursillo.  And as part of the Cursillo community, my sister, brother and I were...coerced into helping out with a small part of the retreat.  And during the time we were there, we sang "De Colores" over and over and over again.  Its infectious rhythms and joyous themes are part of the reason it has continued to live on in Hispanic culture.  In fact, just today I saw it on Disney Junior, as part of "A Poem is...", retold by Jessica Alba.  It is joyous and just plain fun to sing or say.  In this picture book version, David Diaz captures the joy, peace, love and harmony of the song's spirit.

From the cover illustration, it is obvious what this book is about - there are seven people on the front cover, all with their heads tipped back in song.  On each subsequent page, stanzas of the song are printed in Spanish, then translated into English.  I always appreciate the difficulty of translating music and poetry into another language - here Diaz has to be very careful to not only bring across the intent of the words, but he must also adhere to the musical structure as well.  It's very tricky, but Diaz does it beautifully.  The words flow nicely and can be sung to the same tune.
The chorus "Y por eso los grandes amores de muchos colores me gustan a mí" is translated to "And a bright love has found us with peace all around us that makes our heart sing".  That joyful feeling of peace, love and happiness is evident throughout this book.  On many pages, the human characters are floating through air.  They seem weightless - gravity doesn't apply to them.  And I mean gravity in both senses of the word.  They soar through the air, serene, content, free of burdens or worries.  These people bask in the "the bright love (that) has found us."  The sky behind them is a pure, rich cerulean blue with some hazy clouds to break up the expanse.  As the song continues, each of these human characters embraces that bright love.  This love is shown through the large hearts that begin to cover each character's torsos.  By the end of the book, the people are firmly on the ground, in a large circle, arms around each other and each with the love in their hearts visible on their shirts.
Part of the song that I love in Spanish is when the verses imitate the barnyard birds.  They have a charming onomatopoeia all their own.  For example, when the rooster sings "canta el gallo con el quirí, quirí, quirí, quirí, quirí".  The words are fun to sing and a little tongue-twisting.  What I also like about using the Spanish is that it is so different from our "cock-a-doodle-doo", yet the Spanish word still has some of the familiar rooster crow to it.  By the way, if this starts a conversation about animal sounds in different languages, the website Bzzzpeek is a fun way to compare animal sounds around the world.
Although I've talked briefly about the illustrations, I want to describe my favorite illustration to you.  It depicts the verse "de colores es el arco iris que vemos lucir/bright with colors the rainbow brings joy with the glory of spring".  Across two-thirds of the page, an enormous rainbow spreads.  The colors are more pastel than primary, with a chalky texture to them.  As is true throughout the book, texture is fundamental here.  Four figures are placed across the page.  Each one could be taken for either an angel or a beautiful flower.  Their faces are surrounded by halos of golden yellow petals alternating with different, repeating design elements on each halo.  They have green petals poking out from their shoulders, representing wings.  The angel/flowers' faces have warm, beatific smiles.  Two are clearly relishing the warmth of the sun with eyes closed.  It is a perfect embodiment of "De Colores" - with peace, bright love and happiness.  I love the joy in this particular illustration.
Even the endpapers in this story are purposefully included in Diaz's artistic vision.  The front endpaper shows the world on one side.  It is seen from the evening sky, a peaceful blue color.  Some stars twinkle and the moon slumbers with a contented smile.  It is a lovely scene.  This scene is static, though you don't notice that until you see the back endpaper.  On that page, the design is the same, with Earth on one side and the slumbering, beatific moon on the other.  But now the globe is surrounded by characters from the book (with their hearts still visible) holding hands and encircling Earth with love.  A perfect ending.
This book includes a brief page of information on the folksong and the sheet music for the song as well.  The page of information goes on to explain that there are multiple versions of this folksong.  The version that I grew up with included an İOlé! at the end of each verse.  It added some vibrancy to this joyous folksong.  I love this picture book version of De Colores, so I'll just end with an İOlé!

De Colores = Bright with colors.  Pictures by David Diaz.  Marshall Cavendish, 2008.

borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library

It's a Book or It's a Little Book

I'm pretty picky about my board books.  I don't like ones that have text way too long to read to a toddler.  I don't like ones that just crop the artwork instead of shrinking it to fit a smaller page (cropping artwork can lose valuable details that add to the overall effect).  I prefer books designed for, and with stories created for toddlers.  Sure, there are picture books which make great board books.  But usually I love ones that recognize their audience and play to it.  I love Sandra Boynton's Pookie board books - they have an infectious bounce to their rhyming text, and Pookie is a funny, irresistible toddler.  I also love the Bunny Reads Back series of board books by Rosemary Wells.  They take familiar rhymes and interpret them for the youngest listeners, with just a few words of text on each double-page spread.  Sweet, musical and fun.

But even though I may inwardly cringe at them, I continue to read board books on a regular basis.  At our public library, Gloria insists on picking her allotment out of the board book bins.  There usually are not many titles, and the ones that are there are ratty, dirty and falling apart.  But on a visit a few weeks ago, I was pleasantly surprised to see a handful of new board books in the cubes.  One of them was It's a Little Book by Lane Smith.  Now, I do love Lane Smith, but when It's a Book came out in 2010, I was one of the few people who didn't like it very much.  But It's a Little Book was new and unread, so home it went.  And once we read it, I became interested in re-reading It's a Book and comparing the two.
Right from the title page of It's a Book, Smith introduces the three characters in the book with brief sentences - "It's a mouse.", "It's a jackass.", "It's a monkey."  You can also see the central tension of the book from this first scene - while the jackass walks along, laptop under his arm, the monkey is sitting in a comfortable armchair, peering intently at a book.  The board book does not introduce the characters (which makes sense - do you really want to teach your toddler the word "jackass", even if it is in the correct context?!) but the summary on the copyright page calls the jackass character "baby donkey".  To add to the young feel of the board book, the donkey and monkey are indeed babies - wearing diapers.  They are cute and relatable.  While the monkey does carry over his porkpie hat from the original, the donkey does not bring any of his own clothing.
Throughout the text of the picture book, the jackass compares the book to technology in hopes of finding something understandable about the concept of a book.  He keeps questioning the monkey, who is trying to be patient, but is engrossed in his book.  The jackass asks "Can it text? Tweet? Wi-Fi?"  "Does it need a password?"  This is very funny to readers of the book, but it also rings a familiar note for readers who have tried to explain the lure of books to their friends.  After all, there are many non-readers who will be far more familiar with those technological advances.  My favorite question is when the jackass asks "Where's your mouse?", referring to the book.  The money glances upward, and there, on his head, the mouse lifts the monkey's porkpie hat.
In the board book, the questions the baby donkey asks are varied and creative.  These are very appropriate to toddlers who won't know how to use a password (although the donkey does ask if the book is for emailing).  The donkey uses the book as a bill for quacking like a duck, a saddle for riding, a roof for building a house.  In this book the donkey holds the book throughout most of the text.  He's handling it, which is very appropriate for a book for toddlers, who like to physically explore things.  In the picture book, it's the monkey who is mostly trying to read that precious book while being interrupted by the jackass.
I keep referring to the animal in the picture book as a jackass, and that's because that's how he is introduced from the very beginning.  The reason Smith chooses that name is so that it can set up a joke at the end of the story - I won't ruin it here.  I'll simply say that when I first read this book, I felt like it was all a set-up for a cheap joke.  It left me dissatisfied with a book many others loved.  The board book, rightly, doesn't use that joke, which is fine - the joke feels a little mean-spirited.  Instead, the final illustration shows the monkey and donkey sharing the book, enjoying it together.  It's more welcoming - introducing young readers to the world of books and literacy.
I've been very careful in this review to not call It's a Little Book a board book version of It's a Book.  It's not.  On the book cover itself, it's billed as a companion, and I think that's an excellent description.  It's got the same theme and idea, but with the younger characters and change in text, it is much more suited to toddlers.  It's definitely a well-designed, well-conceived addition to the board book market.  I'm still not as enamored of It's a Book, but I love what Lane Smith has done with It's a Little Book.  It's for reading.

It's a Book.  Lane Smith.  Roaring Brook Press, 2010.
It's a Little Book.  Lane Smith.  Roaring Brook Press, 2011.

both books borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library

Really Truly Bingo

Living in Montana at this time of year, I'm longing for summer.  Frances, who spent the first 3 1/2 years of her life in Arizona, keeps asking when it will be summer so she can wear flip-flops.  Sadly, just yesterday we had another three inches of snow, so summer won't be arriving any time soon.  But in Really Truly Bingo, summer is almost palpable.

Bea wants to play with her mom.  Her mother is busy, so she tells Bea to go play outside.  And when Bea replies that there's nothing to do, her mother tells her to use her imagination (something she may regret later!).  So Bea plods outside and waits for inspiration to strike her.  Soon a talking dog named Bingo peeks out of the flowers.  Bingo tells Bea "Let's do something we're not supposed to do."  Uh-oh.  You can see where Bea's imagination might take her.
They begin by making a fort in the melon patch, including digging a hole to rest in.  Bea goes in to get pillows and blankets for the fort.  Her mother absentmindedly asks her if she's found something to do. but doesn't really listen to Bea's answer that she's playing with a talking dog.  The fort is perfect, but Bingo decides he's hungry.  Bea tries to do the right thing - she tells Bingo they shouldn't eat between meals.  But "she couldn't resist the look in his eyes", so a snack is produced.
Things really begin to go downhill when Bingo decides he's so hot that he absolutely must run in the sprinkler, even though Bea has been told not to do so.  They run through the sprinkler, then slide on the grass and through the mud.  It's a perfect summer afternoon!  They even weave daisy chains, bringing back summer memories for all of us.  Then Bea's mother comes out to survey the damage - ruined melon patch, crushed flowers, dirty pillows.  All she can do is blare Bea's full name "Beatrice P. McGonagal"!
It's at this moment when things shift.  In the face of her mother's frustration, Bea turns to reassure Bingo, and the reader sees the scene from the mother's point of view.  Bea's arm is not around the shaggy dog we have seen pictured up to this point, but empty air.  Now it's obvious to young readers that this dog has come out of her own imagination.  While we all know there are no talking dogs in real life, readers have accepted its presence previously in the book because Bea accepted Bingo's presence.  Suddenly we see that all of the plans for doing things they weren't supposed to do came from Bea, not Bingo.
As a parent, I've certainly been where Bea's mother is at the end of this story.  I've been busy, and told Frances and/or Gloria to play by themselves, or just not checked on them as frequently as I ordinarily do because I've gotten caught up in something.  At these times, I remind myself of the motto "You get what you pay for" - if you are too busy to play with the children, you may end up with a mess like the one Bea's created.  Bea has done what her mother told her - she used her imagination to create an activity to occupy the afternoon.  Bea's mother can only shake her head ruefully and go inside after instructing Bea to clean up.
The illustrations were created using a technique cited in the front of the book as gouache resist (the author has a great tutorial on how this happens here).  The end result of this technique is perfectly suited to this subject matter.  The resist makes the paint almost bead up, giving a hazy impression.  You can feel the oppressive heat, the shimmering light through these bright colors.  Kvasnosky has chosen the colors of perfect mid-summer, before the heat dries everything to a crisp.  The melon patch is full of large, ripe melons and the daisies are still jaunty.
Kvasnosky also uses sharp black lines in this technique.  The result is that all of the elements that make up the illustrations are bold and distinct.  These lines make the haziness of the background and colors stand out, giving the background less definition by comparison.  In a way, this technique wasn't just the perfect choice for the book about a hot summer day.  It's also the right choice for a book about imagination in everyday life.  The crisp lines of reality stand out against the haziness of Bea's imagination.  It is a beautifully composed and illustrated book.
I am longing for summer and my own vegetable garden, and this book helps soothe that longing.  Not only does it recreate a summer afternoon, but Kvasnosky also helps recreate the feeling of childhood - its innocence and creativity.

Really Truly Bingo.  Laura McGee Kvasnosky.  Candlewick Press, 2008.

borrowed from Lewis & Clark library

Diego Rivera

I know I have said before how important I think Hispanic literature is for children, and I've brought your attention to several books (including The Cazuela the Farm Maiden Stirred).  I find that there isn't always a lot of attention brought to these books, and I want to make sure I do my part.  That's why I was so excited to see Diego Rivera on my Cybils Non-Fiction Picture Book nomination list.  I had also seen it mentioned previously on some of my regular blogs, but hadn't been able to get my hands on it.  So when it finally landed in my mailbox as part of the Cybils, I was thrilled!!  And then it won the Pura Belpre Award for Illustration in the ALA Youth Media Awards announcements.  And now I can't wait to share it with you!

This book is not your traditional biography, and Duncan Tonatiuh shows a deft, sure hand while describing Rivera's life.  He chooses to focus almost exclusively on Rivera's artistic life in this book, so there is no mention of (or place for) his equally famous wife, Frida Kahlo.  It's an interesting counterpoint to Me, Frida, which I reviewed here last year.  However, Tonatiuh find a way to include detail about Rivera's interests and life without overwhelming the reader.  The text is brief and clear.  Young readers will have no problem following the line of thought.  One of the things I admire most about Tonatiuh's writing  is the way he defines artistic styles within his text.  The definitions are concise, natural and contextual.  For instance, "There he learned the classical way to paint, which means his finished paintings looked very realistic, almost like photographs." (p. 2)  The tone keeps this accessible, so readers won't stumble over unfamiliar terms.

But what makes this book feel very fresh and intriguing is indicated in the subtitle: His World and Ours.  After the biographical part of the book, Tonatiuh asks readers to imagine what Rivera would find culturally significant and inspiring in today's society.  This question requires those readers to not only look critically at our society, but to apply what they have learned previously about Diego Rivera as well.  What interested him in his own society?  This takes passively learned knowledge to the next level.  It also makes the book applicable to any grade child or almost any classroom.  It's just as useful in a social studies unit as an art classroom or a history lesson on Mexico.  This book is incredibly flexible.

Then Tonatiuh takes this concept up another notch.  He compares our society to Rivera's paintings in side-by-side comparisons, cleverly positioning contemporary people to seem like those from the past.  After all, as he notes, "Diego's murals teach us about the past.  But they also show a better future for common people." (p. 28)  This is a textually strong book, and it also has great informative back matter.  It includes a well-written glossary, an author's note with expanded biographical information, bibliography, and a list of places you can see Rivera's work, both in and outside of the United States.

I haven't really talked about the illustrations so far in the review, but rest assured that the Belpre Award for Illustration is well deserved here (he also won a Honor in 2011).  Tonatiuh does an amazing job of echoing Rivera's style without abandoning his own artistic leanings.  His faces are perfectly rounded, with sharp lips and sloping noses.  As you can see from the cover image above, Diego Rivera is perfectly recognizable in the foreground, even though it is done in Tonatiuh's own style.  In the author's note, he describes how both he and Rivera were inspired by ancient Pre-Columbian and Mayan art.  It is fascinating to see how well Rivera's style melds with Tonatiuh's own.  A final piece of back matter that I found very useful is the Inspirations piece.  There is a list of page numbers for the illustrations in the book, along with the murals or paintings that Rivera did that inspired Tonatiuh's illustrations.  He includes the size of the murals, yet another way of emphasizing the enormity of Rivera's imagination and work.

His artistic style for this book is unusual and thoughtful.  On the back of the title page, it is noted "The artwork in this book was hand-drawn, then collaged digitally."  This is a fascinating combination, especially in light of the historic influences on both of their work.  For instance, on a set of book shelves, most books are hand-drawn.  But then there are also a few, scattered about, that are clearly "real" books.  These help add depth and texture to the illustrations.  Sometimes the collaged parts are immediately visible in framing elements; sometimes they are more subtle, such as the hair of one of the figures.  The collaged elements also help draw a connection between ancient and modern society.

All in all, this book cannot be missed.  Its unique combination of artistic styles and its ability to bring a historical figure into today's society is phenomenal.  It is also a valuable book for schools and classrooms.  Do yourself a favor and investigate this one.

Diego Rivera: His World and Ours.  Duncan Tonatiuh.  Abrams Books for Young Readers, 2011.

given by publisher for review in conjunction with Cybils.



Juniper Berry

I am not a scary book reader.  I'm not fond of horror - I just don't want to imagine those scenes.  I have a big imagination, so if I read something scary, I tend to remember it and think about it again at the most inopportune moments.  Like when it's dark, late at night, and I hear a strange noise (gulp!).  That's part of why this book is so refreshing - it is creepy and scary, but it's nothing middle schoolers can't handle.  In fact, some of the creepiness comes from how ordinary Juniper's life seems from the outside.

Juniper Berry is 11 years old, and she has famous parents.  They are both famous actors, and when she was young, they were able to leave their work behind when they came home.  The Berrys had Juniper as the focus of their lives.  Lately, though, her parents are distracted, acting like she's not even in the room.  The nicest thing they say to her is "Go away."  The Berrys worry about not being famous enough, they panic over the roles being offered to others, they fret over their performances and their lines.  Juniper knows something is not right.  But their eyes tell her the truth - they are flat, empty, and emotionless.
Since Juniper's parents became so famous, Juniper has become more and more isolated.  She was already homeschooled, locked behind the gates of the home where fans flock all day.  So when she sees a boy wandering the woods behind their house, she runs to meet him.  Giles lives nearby, and he is worried about his parents as well.  They are famous in the music world, and suddenly things are not right with his family either.  The biggest giveaway is their eyes.  Giles has followed them in the dead of night to a specific tree on the Berrys' property.  And Juniper has noticed something about that particular tree, too - a raven who perches there constantly - the only one in the area.
Kozlowsky does an amazing job of ratcheting up the tension and suspense without making the book too frightening.  There are a couple of really yucky scenes, but most of the terror in this book comes from fear, not gore.  Kozlowsky has created a combination of adrenaline ride and thoughtful commentary on today's society.  I believe the ideas behind the book will stick in readers' heads much longer than the fear.
This is the author's first novel, and one of his gifts is description.  And the descriptions he creates are unusual, yet give you an immediate picture.  He describes Mrs. Berry this way "Her torso was also long and seemed to bend like warm rubber..." (p. 11).  And Juniper longs to touch Giles' wet hair, and when she does, it feels like "thick strands of yarn, or, Juniper preferred, waterlogged caterpillars." (p. 29).  Both descriptions are quirky but strong - you can see Mrs. Berry bending, you can feel Giles' hair as Juniper does.  These descriptions really heighten the tone of this novel, making it feel creepier and creepier.
You may have already guessed that Juniper and Giles' parents are in trouble, and maybe even that it has something to do with the fact that they are all famous.  I don't want to give away too much and spoil your experience of this novel, but I'll say that Kozlowsky does an excellent job of looking at the price of fame in a way that young readers will understand.  Juniper's parents are seen constantly evaluating their fame.  "'Juniper, dear, you go to all those websites, those gossip pages, posting boards.  Have they been mentioning me?'" (p.11)  Both Juniper's father and mother worry their best days are behind them.  They feel old, not attractive, not successful, even though people are constantly hounding them (even Juniper's tutor scours the house for the latest Berry gossip).  But it is never enough for them.
One of the things I find most interesting about this book is the parent-child dynamic.  In most teen books and many books for middle schoolers, the parents are absent in order to allow the younger characters to act without parental influence.  But in this book, Juniper's parents are present, physically there in front of her.  And yet she is still absolutely alone, horribly neglected.  Her biggest desire is to have her parents back with her, to continue to make that connection with them.  Where many books show characters who aren't connected to their parents  (separating from families as part of the coming of age process), Juniper and Giles both desperately need their parents.  Juniper particularly is a typical 11 year old - sometimes brave and strong enough to act decisively on her own, more often still longing for her parents' touch.  It is a sad consequence of her parents' actions.
I hope readers will take the message her to heart - all of the parents have enormous aspirations, and gave up things to gain shortcuts to fame and stardom.  While they do work at their crafts, it comes much more easily now.  I think Kozlowsky does a great job of couching this message in an adventure.  Students will read on to see what happens to Juniper and Giles, but I hope they will take away the idea that things that come so easily might not be reality.  I think that idea gives the terror substance - what would the reader do to achieve their own dreams?  Read it, think about it, and let me know.  I hope this story of terror and temptation doesn't come true for you.

Juniper Berry.  M.P. Kozlowsky.  Walden Pond Press: HarperCollins, 2011.

borrowed from Lewis & Clark Library